Page 68 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

Nonna pulled the cup from under the spigot, set it down on the table in front of Dante, and sat opposite him at his butcher block table. Her cool, blue eyes bored into his from across the weathered wood, and his stomach plummeted to his feet.

This was the Nonna he remembered from his childhood. The one who could get a Trappist monk to talk. The woman was worse than the Spanish Inquisition. He’d never been able to hide anything from her. Why did he think today would be any different?

“Then again,” she continued, crossing her legs and smoothing her designer skirt over her thighs, her gaze still locked with his. “It could be that I had lunch with Flavia yesterday.”

He gripped the cup so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “I didn’t realize you two kept in touch after—”

He broke off, staring down into the steaming black brew, as if the answer to his problems were in its depths instead of across the ocean in San Francisco. He was still convinced that ending things with Zoe had been the right thing to do. He was broken. Empty. Incapable of giving her what she needed, deserved.

He just wasn’t prepared for the depth and breadth of the pain of losing her. For some reason, he thought it would be easier this time. They’d only been together for a few weeks. And it wasn’t as if Zoe were gone forever. But that didn’t seem to matter; she was still lost to him.

Nonna reached across the table and laid her hand gently over his. “Of course. She’s part of our family. Nicole’s death didn’t change that.”

He cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that had formed there. “I suppose she told you we ran into each other.”

“She did.”

“What else did she say?”

Dante held his breath as Nonna made a show of brushing a speck of lint off her sleeve. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she answered him.

“She said you were with someone. A woman. I assume it was Zoe.”

“And?”

“And you acted like you barely knew her.”

He sipped his coffee. Not bad for Nonna’s first time using his far-too-complicated machine. He wasn’t even sure why he’d bought it in the first place. A moka and a stovetop burner did the job just as well.

“Stop stalling.” Nonna scolded him like he was still the teenager who snuck off to smoke clove cigarettes behind the high school. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? I can’t imagine Zoe appreciated being treated like an afterthought instead of someone you care about.”

He considered denying his feelings for Zoe but quickly dismissed that idea. It was no use. Nonna would see through him. She always had.

“I didn’t treat her like an afterthought,” he hedged, praying he wouldn’t get struck down by lightning for the lie.

“That’s not how Flavia tells it.”

“Flavia talks too much.” Just like his brother. The world would be a better place if people minded their own damn business.

“Oh,mia vita.” Nonna shook her head at him, her eyes sad and the corners of her mouth curving downward into a disapproving frown. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

Uh oh. She was bringing out the big guns now. Guilt was a powerful motivator, especially when wielded by the woman who had put her career on hold to take care of him and his brother.

“It was for the best,” he said, not sure who he needed to convince more, his grandmother or himself.

“Zoe’s or yours?”

“Zoe’s. It made it easier for her to leave. No long, drawn-out goodbyes. No false promises about trying to get together sometime.”

“Who says they have to be false?”

He didn’t answer, and Nonna shook her head at him again, this time with more sympathy than scorn. “I think I understand what you’re not telling me. This isn’t about Zoe. It’s about Flavia and Aldo. You weren’t ready for them to see you with someone else.”

“I can’t imagine what they must think of me now. But it’s more than that.” He took another sip of strongcaffè, not meeting his grandmother’s gaze. If he looked at her, he wouldn’t be able to do this.

“Let me guess.” Nonna’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re still blaming yourself for Nicole’s death. And you feel guilty because you have feelings for someone else.”

Yes and yes. But he couldn’t seem to get the words past his throat.